The Beast of Bellevue (Re-Telling of Beauty and the Beast)
by Reading Harbor
Summary: How much does inner beauty really matter? What if the genders were reversed? This story is a classic re-telling of a tale as old as time. Set between an Insane Asylum and a modern high school, the Beast of Bellevue must find a way to befriend allies and escape her prison tower before its too late.
1. Chapter 1

_"__Think of the one thing that you've always wanted. Now find it in your mind's eye and feel it in your heart." – Beauty and the Beast_

CH. 1

**Ava stared at the screen, mouth open**. Rubbing her eyes, she choked on a cough to suppress it. He was the most beautiful boy she had ever seen – with a thousand watt smile that she thought could easily melt the sun. He was everything she had imagined. No, he was more than she could have possibly dreamed – although she was certain she would have liked him, even if he had been ordinary. A pale pink crept up her neck, warming her face, as she realized his image was real. He was before her, his piercing eyes sparkling back at her, a lock of brown hair falling gently across his brow.

He had not _run_. He had been the one who had wanted to befriend her. He had corresponded with her all these days through email and now he was there – real, a person. Well, on webcam.

For the first time in her life, she felt a strange sensation – almost like she belonged, a normal teenager hanging out with normal friends. Maybe she wouldn't be cursed to live alone and die unloved after all, she thought to herself dramatically. Suddenly, she felt the urge to comb her hair and brush her teeth, even though she wasn't on camera. Well, no, that wasn't true. She was always on camera, but he didn't know that and he couldn't see her end of the stream. She would explain that to him later, not wanting to make him worry about this already unconventional camaraderie.

"Hello?" the male voice on the other end of the line said patiently for the second time. His hand waved across the screen. Fingers wiggling, then tapping the microphone. Static buzzed. Panicking, Ava realized she had to speak or her moment would be over.

"Hello!" she managed to squeak much more loudly than she intended. Her hand smacked her forehead.

Her pulse raced despite her fervent prayers to remain calm. Squinting, she tried to read the backup script that she had prepared for just this sort of situation, should her wits fail her. Unfortunately, she hadn't counted on her other senses, such as reading comprehension, to be similarly stunned. She had practiced all the wonderful things she was going to say. She had a witty opening remark about how it at 3:14 she usually liked pie breaks instead of e-cafe conferences.

Licking her lips to moisten them, she realized suddenly her mouth was quite dry. There were some muffled noises. A clang of the mug and a small squeak as Ava inadvertently pushed her cup onto the floor, tripping over her own feet while attempting to get a drink for her parched tongue.

"You okay there?" Cody asked, suddenly worried about what antics his kid brother had put him up to that led him to this point. He was suddenly suspicious that Dylan was up to no good. He'd agreed to come help a friend in need. Before he could speak further, the video feed was disconnected. – And he was cut off from the lonely beast in Bellevue Insane Asylum, who had confused him with her prince.

When she was very little, she had liked to picture a pair of hummingbirds around her head. Her constant companions, they buzzed and fluttered around her ears – singing tunes, telling her things – giving her a reason and explanation to the crippling anxiety and agoraphobia that imprisoned her. She had been institutionalized – stuck in Bellevue Insane Asylum – since the age of nine, ever since Mrs. Shallow at Mount Lucent's School for Girls had phoned home the second week of her arrival at the boarding school. The enraged headmaster had bellowed into the phone, telling her parents that their daughter was a lunatic who had set fire to half the school building and had gotten half the staff to hand in their resignation.

The truth was, Ava was just clumsy. Nothing had gone right. She had planned to bake a cake.

She'd had no friends her age at the academy, although she had tried valiantly to make many. Her hair stretched too thinly around her face. The girl had a sallow, sickly complexion, and her large ears did her no favors. There were numerous attempts to fit in, and join makeup parties to which she had little interest.

When she was born, her mother took one look at her and shoo-ed her away to a nanny in their summer home in France. "It was for the best, dear," she liked reminding her husband. The girl had just this sickly pallor that Mediterranean breezes and sunshine could only serve to improve. France would give her culture if not color.

Life in the asylum was far from pleasant. Cameras were fashioned on every corner. The walls were a sanitized white, devoid of character and spirit. Meals were somber events, timed to a regular schedule and consisting of the same fare: some type of spoon-fed grits and blanched vegetables with a juice box. Ava rationalized that it could be worse. There could be fleas. At least, there were no fleas - at least, this is what the cook liked to remind Bellevue's guests. "Count yourselves lucky. You can all be eating porridge without bugs." Gradually though, any place can become a home. Her environment became a familiar haven; truly a place that grows on you.

Her mother phoned once a month, in an exceedingly saccharine voice, "Sweetheart, how are you?" as if sugar and pleasantries could make up for anything. The phone call would always last less than five minutes and take place promptly at 4:00 pm on the first Sunday after church on the month between salon visits. These exchanges would be brief and concise, fact-filled, with no need for pleasantries or filler: "Are you eating well?" followed without pause by, "Great. I'm sure we can take you home soon."

Her parents always maintained a perfected image. Her mother was the editor of the high-end lifestyle fashion magazine, _Exquisite_, and in her heyday was hailed as an unprecedented Miss Nevada and Miss California - despite hailing from Georgia. Her father had inherited his money from his father, the late great Augustine Pierce, CEO and president of T.I.T.A.N Industries, a certifiable genius and founder of a consumer electronics and other small parts manufacturing conglomerate. Pierce Senior had married a certain glamorous movie star from the '70s whom gave birth to exactly one son as per prenuptial agreement before divorcement and disappearance from existence. It was the only marr on the family legacy, and an all too public one as it substantially depreciated the value of the T.I.T.A.N brand and forced selling of a majority stake to a foreign market. Scandal would not be tolerated, as it was far too costly. Fortunately, Augustine Jr. inherited his mother's Hollywood looks, his father's brand name and what was left of the fortune. He married well enough, did business well enough, and was just famous enough to carry on the Pierce legacy.

Ava, however, was a disappointment. A face like that, no one wanted to see. How a beauty pageant thoroughbred and genius' son could come together and produce a crossbreed that had little obvious semblance of either lineage was a mystery to geneticists and plastic surgeons who had all been consulted. There were some accusations of infidelity, some talk about how mutations can lead to chromosomal abnormalities, and a smattering of threats of lawsuits to tabloids. This had all been hushed up though, as DNA tests revealed Ava was indeed a product of both parents.

As other children learned to play well with others, she had become accustomed to imaginary things that kept her fancy and interest, such as birds that spoke to her. She would dream fantastic things that "were not grounded in reality." This, of course, did not help counter her doctor's diagnosis that she suffered from antisocial acute paranoia with scatterings of schizo typical delusions, a cluster of symptoms that could fall under a wide range of psychosis but would require clinical monitoring to fully diagnose and treat.

Care at Bellevue was pricey but top-notch; Ava was lucky as her symptoms had been caught early when rehabilitation was still possible and that there was an opening today. It was imperative that her parents send her for hospitalization on the first business day that allowed the bank's check to clear! How long treatment might take was unfortunately uncertain. She would have to first demonstrate her ability to properly socialize with peers without causing them harm. How she was to do this was, of course, a theoretical exercise. If you don't have any friends, how do you prove you can make one?

Despite her misfortunes, Ava was a generally happy child. Her dreams were vivid and wonderful. She imagined herself flying free in the sky, soaring to great heights and being untouchable. She would not be burned like Icarus in the sun. She knew to stay among the clouds and away from fire. Her imaginings were filled with hope and wonder, peaked by her curiosity in all things around her. A window in her cell allowed her to look upon a rose garden several feet below. Generally, Ava was happy even though the environment she was in was less than ideal. She had her own amusements.

Speaking of which before his untimely passing, her grandfather had secretly bequeathed Ava a prototype, called _The Mirror _v. 1.0. Encased in soft-polished metal, the dainty handheld homage to movie-star glamour of yore was actually a fully functioning mirror, as well as, a revolutionarily small voice-activated laptop. On the back, there was an inscription: "_For my darling: Whom I wish the world to see. _" Light and elegant, this gift appeared on the surface to be only a beautiful compact. Grandfather Pierce loved hidden features to be hidden amongst ordinary items.

Originally, the Mirror was meant as a wedding gift for his future Hollywood bride but the immediate divorce proceedings that took place, and the wait it took for technology to catch up, meant it was only completed until Ava turned 12. Although her grandfather had never gotten to see Ava as a teenager, he had regretted not spending more time with his only grandchild as she grew older. His cherished magnum opus would be sent as a consolation. No one else in the family knew about the extraordinary nature of this gift at the time. It was a special connection that Ava and Augustine Senior shared that Ava treasured.

True to the inscription, Ava used this to see the outside world. Although Bellevue generally frowned upon its "guests" from communicating without supervision with the outside world, the fact that T.I.T.A.N industries had made a large donation to the institution upon Pierce Senior's departure from earth did allow Ava certain privileges. She could use it to surf the Internet and learn about the world from the safety of these stone walls.

It was through the Mirror that Ava had first met Cody Albright, teenage heartthrob and all-state soccer champion – or at least, who she thought was Cody Albright.


	2. Chapter 2

CH. 2

**_6 months earlier..._**

**It started off as a dare and a quick way to earn some cash. **Most people would say the Albright brothers, Dylan and Cody, were sweet and wholesome. This was from first appearances. They were so much more than that.

Truly, Cody was an All-American athlete. He was considered one of the finest soccer players across the country, gifted not just for his athleticism on the field but also his cleverness in outsmarting goalies. As a team captain, he had worked hard for his title and knew the importance of giving back as he frequently volunteered in hospitals. When he was younger, he had been extremely sick; and, if he hadn't been nursed to health and inspired by his own soccer heroes, he wouldn't be healthy today. Teachers and girls loved him for it, which he resented for the overt attention this afforded him. They were always chasing him around, forcing Dylan, his younger brother to ward them off with stink bomb pranks of ever increasing complexity. (The same trick rarely worked twice!)

As gifted as his brother was at sports, Dylan was not. His creativity was what flourished although his muscles had not. He was skinny and more book-oriented with a penchant for a good deal. This led him to be more accurately described as a mild-mannered scammer. Harmless really, but possessing a taste for mischief. He liked to use his mind to think his way through a problem, but he got bored easily.

It was hard to resist their winsome smiles, ruffled hair, and Boy Scout charm. The Albright brothers had a charismatic and natural appeal. But these boys were kind of bankrupt. Not morally bankrupt, but financially strapped. Young Cody's medical care ate up a lot of savings. A single mom, Ms. Albright worked unusually long hours as a secretary and ad hoc assistant to make-do. She had relatively little time to take care of her sons, while she was busy taking care of the household financially. To help out, Cody earned money through scholarships and endorsement deals for local shops and even did a campaign for some athletic gear. He was a part-time model. The money paid well. Meanwhile, Dylan had devised his own means of helping out. Some were hits and others were misses.

"There's this website where you can earn cash quick." Reagan, his best friend and sometime conspirator, had said one day while playing Nintendo Switch. Few things were more interesting than collecting coins from Mario blocks, except of course collecting actual money.

"I thought we tried all of those." Dylan replied as he used his console to jump across lava pits. He was an expert at dodging. Also, he was unfortunately familiar with advertisements promising easy money that turned out to broken links to viruses. Horrible tricks in his opinion, as he had fallen for his share back in the day before growing wiser.

"Yeah, but check it. We start one. Not join one." Reagan jumped across the screen. The score climbed up. They were easily going to clear the level and rescue the princess.

"That sounds like a scam." Dylan said in a way that his eyes kind of lit up as if he had just gotten an idea to build off of.

"If we provide a service, it's an exchange of goods." Reagan rationalized.

Dylan nodded. This is why they were best friends. They had the best ideas.

No parents were around. Cody was at soccer practice. And so, it had started. The duo took notes.

_What kinds of stuff do people need? We need money._

_Who has a lot of extra money? _

As if Nintendo had all the answers, at that moment Princess Peach bounced across the screen in her long pink ball gown and diamond tiara.

_Rich girls._

_What would they buy? _

This was the hardest question to answer...

Until just then, as was habit, another one of Cody's admirers called.

Dylan had started a phone screening service. He knew how to handle the situation: Ward off the girl without ruining Cody's reputation. His ambiguous foreign accent was perfected.

"Aye no, Albrights been moved from these parts 'bout a week ago."

It was May. Prom season was always the busiest. Rarely did a simple "no" work. Escalation would usually follow. Random visits to the house. Denial. Flowers. Chocolates. Insistence. Random sobbing. It was all so annoying for those caught up as call screeners. Soon the girls would figure out Cody didn't move, i.e. when he showed up to class but that would be Monday's problem.

After the rude interruption, the pair resumed their game.

In the middle of a boss battle, Reagan suddenly dropped his controller and smacked his forehead.

The answer was so simple.

"Remember that photo of Cody helping a little old lady across the street?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"How much do you think that's worth?"

Dylan and Reagan's eyes shined with dollar signs. The boss was forgotten.

"Dare you to sell your brother for cash." And thus, it began.

Theirs would be a juvenile-escort service. It started off small. For those lonely souls in the tri-state area who were lacking a date but didn't want social suicide, "Hire a friend" was at your service. Dylan and Reagan could take care of the online correspondences. Now all that was left was a matter of attracting the right clientele and making sure they weren't technically violating any laws.

As Cody and Dylan were technically speaking practically twins - they were born by the same mother and father within almost a year of one another, it hardly felt like a crime when Dylan took one of Cody's soccer photos and pasted it on the website and captioned below "Prom date for hire." He would use his brother's photos and his brains to run this operation.

If it looked like a duck, quacked like a duck, was it not a duck? Cody and Dylan were essentially the same. Of course, Dylan was not delusional enough to not know his brothers appeal. Cody had the lure of a star athlete, a physical specimen with a heart of gold in short an easy teenage heart-throb. He would just "borrow" a few candids of his brother in a sports jersey in front of Habitat for Humanity, just to help get the site launched.

May was the hot season! The iron needed to be striked. The website "Hire a Friend" was advertised primarily through social media and by word of mouth.

Dylan pressed call back.

"Hello, Miss! There was an operator error. Turns out this is the correct number! This IS the Albright telephone number. May I interest you in an exclusive offer? I am Cody's booking agent. He is a model you know, who helps the elderly with groceries when he is not on the field scoring goals."

"Wait you sound like Dylan…"

"Ha ha ha!" in his entrepreneurial excitement, he forgot to adopt an accent. His cover was blown. Time to lean in to the lie.

"His brother and ALSO his agent. Anyways, there is a new site where we are featuring booking engagements with Cody and other young stars. We - as in Cody inc. - would appreciate if you shared this information to as many people as possible."


	3. Chapter 3

CH. 3

**The website overloaded on the first week of its launch. **

Apparently, a few strategically placed photos – which required increasing levels of membership access to "unlock" – turned into a feeding frenzy. There were now around 102-ish active members, many of whom apparently tried to login at the same time – immediately after school. Interest spread, as the digits increased and prom inched closer.

"We have a problem." Reagan, who was in charge of IT, announced to his friend solemnly – in between Mario races so as to not distract between their principal entertainment.

Dylan, who was in charge of profits, paused the game to give himself time to think. He knew his brother was well-liked, but this was on another level. He knew he shouldn't have posted the picture of Cody helping a little old lady cross the street AND rescuing a stray kitten on the main page. It was too much for the adolescent female mind to bear.

Reagan sighed. Just like the guidebooks warned, making money off the Internet was a lot of work. It was supposed to be a simple site but it had a lot of challenges, since it was managed by two pretending to be one and servicing a bunch of ravenous teenagers. He shivered to think of them in their pajamas all gathered around the screen, like hornets feeding on a nest.

Pushing up the glasses on his nose, Dylan spoke as a wise man facing great odds might. "Actually, it's a good thing."

Reagan wondered if this was going to turn into a speech about how obstacles can lead to triumphs.

"What do you mean?" his compatriot asked, wanting to believe, while refreshing the nacho bowl between sets. He trusted Dylan but sometimes his best bud didn't really have the greatest financial acumen, like when he got scammed by the Nigerians. What if the girls wanted refunds? He shuddered. They made so much money already. To give it all back would be such a waste.

Dylan thought of the advantages he'd received, while munching on a nacho chip. For one, girls had stopped telephoning the house or paying 'unexpected visits' after school, hoping to "bump" into Cody. They knew the protocol. You had to pay to play! Paying customers actually helped enforce the moneyed hierarchy. Whenever a girl would arrive at the house, Dylan would promptly hand them a business card and redirect them to the best place to interact with Cody online. If a girl tried to jump the line, all it took was a stern talking to from one of the other girls and re-order was restored. This was also a benefit to Dylan, as his friend Reagan was now part of the management team.

"They might ask for refunds," Reagan said between bites.

"No, they won't." Dylan reasoned correctly. "They're too invested now. Also, this helps demonstrate the demand. We can raise prices."

Reagan nodded at his friend's grasp of supply-side economics. This is why he was known as the smart one. He really appreciated how Dylan could make an opportunity out of anything. If anyone could take a lemon and make it into sweet juice, this was the guy.

"But that's not our only problem."

Sucking his breath in, Reagan had saved the big news for last.

"They're breaking through our firewalls."

Dylan dropped his joystick, and gulped. This could be a real issue.

The firewalls the enterprising pair had set up were a series of stage gates. Modeled after a video game, each website member (aka. Cody-date-hopeful) had to complete a series of tasks before moving to the next level. Each level granted "new" privileges aka brought the user one-step closer to actually interacting with Cody. (Obviously, Cody couldn't take ALL the members to prom.)

The lowest level required registration with a valid email address and a modest credit card down payment ($10.00 USD, less than the cost of a movie ticket). This silver status let users enter a forum of Cody "ultra fans" and paid for background checks, i.e. any criminal records aka. Reagan googled them).

(Dylan wasn't a total monster; he wanted to make sure his brother was safe! Only non-violent age-appropriate "clientele" would make it through. He did assume the final number would be manageable. There were safeguards after all!)

Level 1 was a place where members could discuss how much a date with Cody would mean to them aka. where they could gush to each other, hype up demand to get more members coming, and supposedly keep each other busy. Unfortunately, it did more of the first two rather than the latter, as it seemed to make the girls more eager to beat each other for a chance to date Cody before prom night hit. The field was winnowed.

After a certain level of participation, another credit card payment would be required (but it was worth it)! The second level unlocked _recent_ photos, taken paparazzi style ($20.00 USD, less than the cost of pizza). Basically, Dylan would sneak up on his brother at random moments. _Walking the dog? Eating a bagel? Washing your face?_ Got it on camera - to err- capture life's moments whilst they were still young. Cody resisted and was extremely suspicious, but this did not stop Dylan's master plan. A deft improviser, Dylan insisted this was a great mother's day gift even posing for a few himself. Good thing Dylan was a quick thinker! Getting these photos was probably priced too cheaply. Fewer girls were expected to make it to this stage, and yet so many did.

The third level ($30.00 USD, less than a new handbag), which apparently some girls had already breached, unlocked baby photos of which there was a limited bunch. _ Is there really a price for love though?_ Only a handful were to make it through. But if one thing was cuter than Cody, it had to be Baby Cody.

The fourth level allowed one-on-one communication, which hadn't really been a fully fleshed out plan yet...

"They're leveling up?" Dylan asked somewhat fearful. He knew that teenage girls could be adamant but he was counting on Reagan and his own technological superiority to keep them at bay. All the details had been planned, except how to handle the last one. The last level would be interaction with "Cody."

He had still yet to come up with a way to bring that up to his brother. Thus far, he had been lucky at keeping them away from his brother thanks to his brother's packed extracurricular schedule. He was mostly at away games or doing make-up and take home homework assignments for now.

_"__Hmm, how was the away game? Good to hear it went well. By the way, while you were away, Reagan and I made a site and some money. And we sold you." _ Dylan thought to himself. That scenario did not bode well. His brother was bigger than him.

"Make more levels."

Reagan nodded at the reasonable but temporary solution.

It was a good solution while it lasted. But it seemed like the more difficult it was to conquer a level, the more fueled the girls were by beating it. Instead of slowing their rate of passage, it was like the girls were swarming en masse. Now, it was a race to the finish line.

"We should have known!" Dylan cried, smacking his own forehead.

"Known what?" Reagan asked, since this was his first criminal enterprise. Dylan probably had more experience with this kind of stuff. He was just lending his IT support, at least, that is what he planned on telling the police if things went South. He was just the brawn of the operation. Dylan was the brains!

"It's like Mario. When you beat a really hard challenge, you want to get to the next level. It's like a video game for these girls. They're probably forming leagues."

Reagan wondered how good these girls might be at Mario.

"So, you think they have parties and share tips on how to level up?"

Both boys visibly tremoured at the thought.

"I wouldn't put it past them." Dylan murmured under his breath.

"Those ravenous wolves!"

"It's my brother we're talking about! So what do we do now?!"

Reagan was suddenly fearful that he may have boasted of his IT skills a little too highly. Now his friend probably thought he could perform some kind of miracle. Although he considered himself a genius coder, he never had to fix problems under this kind of pressure. He really only watched a few YouTube tutorials on how to setup a website and possessed an inordinate amount of free time.

There was only one solution after all.

"We have to give them Cody." Reagan stated a fact.

Dylan's lips pressed into a thin line. He knew this was the truth. Their funny little games had developed into a beast of its own. It was a steady income stream that was growing quickly but needed a lot of food and resources to maintain. They were victims of their own success.

"He's not ready yet for this kind of information. I still have to figure out a way to broach the subject." He explained his rationale to his friend, while loosening his neck collar which suddenly felt too tight.

"You and Cody are really similar. It's a shame you couldn't just you know..."

Dylan cut his friend off. "There's no way they will confuse me with him."

Shaking his head, he had wondered to himself what life would have been like if he had been born in his brother's place. What if he had been the one gifted at sports and beloved by all. The other was a misfit, an in-the-shadows computer loving dweeb who would be cast more as a sidekick than an action hero. While the two brothers looked quite similar to the untrained eye from a really far distance, they couldn't be more of opposites. No, their interests and personalities diverged too much. He had to swallow his pride. They were noon and twilight.

"Even if we uploaded a bunch of blurry pictures and dressed up in all his clothing, they would be able to tell the difference. Plus, that's kind of weird to just put on his clothes. I mean I would in an emergency but like I don't want to assume his identity or anything."

"I don't mean dress like him. That's not a bad idea but I have a better one. You have knowledge of _his_ background. You guys _grew up_ together. You know intimate details about his life." He pressed, smiling.

Recognition dawned on Dylan's face.

"I _do. _ I can just respond to them, via messenger as him."

"Exactly." Reagan said his eyes wide, giddy that the money flow could continue. They were in too deep now to stop! His friend just needed a little encouragement.

"So, I just...pretend to be Cody?" He said faintly, almost considering the moral implications. He was always curious if people would treat him better if he were his twin. The way the girls fawned…. The way his mother's eyes shown when she spoke of him.

"Yeah, it's not like these girls know him anyways." He muttered.

That was one of the things that really had always bothered Dylan, although he didn't really like to admit it. All of these people claimed to love Cody, but they really were strangers after all. For all their declarations of love and persistence, he was pretty sure that none of them actually knew Cody.

And so, Dylan began responding and another problem was solved.

Jackie rubbed her eyes.

The faint blue light of the monitor glowed. Outside, the twilight stars could be seen speckling the sky like tiny diamond studs. The bosses door was closed again. He had been pulling several late nighters as well. She shouldn't complain... Of course, as his trusted assistant, she needed to be on call. It would have been nice though if he let her go home… She looked across the desk at her nearly empty mug. A few inches of cold brew lay at the bottom in a brown concentric ring.

Who was she kidding? She needed the money.

The tall grandfather clock in the hall chimed. It was midnight again. She wondered what the boys had to eat while her own stomach murmured discontent. Reaching into the bottom of her desk drawer, she fumbled around until she discovered to her joy the last half of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich she had saved. It squished a little to her touch, as it was soggy now from the grape seeping into the wheat fiber. It was a good thing she had remembered to pack it, but she wished she had gone to the store earlier that week and gotten more to supplement their diet. They had a buy-one-get one free sale at the corner store. Chewing on the bread Looking at the frame on her desk, she smiled. Her two twin sons were her pride and joy.

As much as she enjoyed working and being productive, sometimes she couldn't help feeling like she gave more than she got back. Although she was fairly treated and lucky to land such a coveted position without a degree, it was still hard to stretch the dollar to quite fit a family of three. The boys would be going to college soon, a dream she had wanted for herself too. She had no doubt that Cody and Dylan would get in to a competitive school. They both were talented and good kids - for the most part. All of the expenses that came with teenagers added up. She was careful to save and was spendthrift, but the medical expenses that occurred were unexpected. Time really flew by quickly.

Working late though was helping. She was looking forward to getting the boys something nice for their birthday.

Tucking a little hair back in her ear, she continued typing. There were memos to be drafted. This year was a rough one for the whole economy. Layoff season happened in the Spring, but thankfully T.I.T.A.N. had enough cash reserves for now to keep that from happening. It was the one good thing about working for a giant conglomerate.

She hoped Dylan wasn't doing anything too crazy...


	4. Chapter 4

CH. 4

**Taylor stroked her own smooth blond hair**, admiring her own reflection by the sink. It was so easy to look good when you had awesome genes. It was almost unfair. Reaching shallowly into her purse, she found her No. 5 lip gloss. Not that she would need an extra level of shine to make more visible her naturally glistening appearance, but it didn't hurt to help nature along.

In the words of her mother, she planned to maximize her assets while she got them. Her mother was a famous actress back in the heyday. Surrounded by other probably equally beautiful women, she had still managed to make out like a bandit solely on her looks before old age took its toll.

_God bless her soul._ Taylor and her mom lived a fabulous life of privilege in a giant artificial waterfront mansion. Not all the other model slash actresses had come out so lucky. Some had clung to their youth well past their prime, and spent their fortunes young; only to be replaced by newer shinier versions of themselves decades later. It was a sad fate having to depend on your children, instead of the other way around. Taylor smoothed the folds in her layered skirt, tailored to her form. It was expensive but more importantly looked that way. She knew the value of first impressions.

_The right honey attracts the right bee_.

She smiled to herself as she thought of her friends outside, eager to know who she was taking to the prom, a luxury she got to enjoy as queen of the pack. She loved being the center of attention, and consistently winning the admiration and praise of those around her. It was like the spotlight never turned off. To her pals, she feigned difficulty in deciding due to having so many options. It was true she had choices but probably not as many as she'd let her friends believe. Her little boast helped her image. This was marketing 101.

"You're so lucky," Leslie, her petite Asian mini clone, said with awe. She was dressed in a similar puffy skirt with tight leggings, and frilly shirt. It was the one that Taylor had worn last season, she noted appreciatively. Leslie was always a little behind always fighting to keep up. It was sweet.

Taylor tossed her glossy hair.

"You can get _any _guy you want." Kylie, her cheerleading squad co-captain, added just a little bitterly. Although she was a co-captain, everyone knew she only got the role because of her athleticism. Worse yet, her physical appearance had prematurely been enhanced through light medical procedures. It was common enough amongst the upper class, but not something to be proud of at such a young age. The Botox gave her forehead an unmistakable sheen.

Taylor gave an appropriate rub on the arm and a consoling look, which she had practiced well. Secretly, she couldn't help but be a little satisfied at the praise. It was nice being acknowledged and she felt envy was one of those emotions that couldn't be faked.

Only gorgeous red-haired Kelly, probably the closest to being her rival, gave a look of disbelief. Her eyebrows raised just ever so slightly, involuntarily but enough to be a challenge. This rubbed against Taylor's pride.

"So, who are you taking?" Kelly asked a little too forcefully for Taylor's liking.

Statistically-oriented, Leslie started guessing random members of the school's most elite. Kylie chimed in. Kelly's long lashes dripped with envy. It was funny how green Kelly's eyes looked under certain circumstances, like when her deepest life questions weren't being answered. One flaw she had was a pressing need to know all matters related to gossip. The truth though was Taylor hadn't decided yet on who she would take, so she couldn't answer her rival. She wasn't sure how to top herself and keep her hard earned status. She hadn't always been on top. Climbing to the peak was easier than maintaining the crown when so many sought it.

She knew that she wanted to outdo last year when she took actual royalty to the dance. Technically, he was a third cousin twice removed to some Italian duke but still… He was over 18. Too bad he had gone off to college now. She needed to win the battle that is high school. She had choices but she needed to make the best one.

Walking out of the bathroom was like an event. She purposely took a few extra minutes even after she was done adjusting herself to make her friends wait in anticipation on the "big" news she was about to deliver. As she was on track to becoming prom queen three-years in a row, she wasn't going to let anything mess that up. First thing of order though, she needed to name her date, or in other words choose a suitable partner.

_Who would possibly say no to her?_ In fact, on her way into school, at least three guys had approached her. Shot down. High school was full of pimply teenagers but she needed a star to match her wattage.

Looking across the hallway, she spotted him with his soccer ball in hand. His eyes shown with a light. His coiffed hair glistened like rain on fresh grass. A perfect fit. Prom was only a few months away. She needed her crowning moment and she just spotted her prince.

"Cody Albright," she said confidently.

Leslie looked confused. Kylie gasped. Kelly burst out laughing.

Her face felt warm, but mostly it was because she wasn't use to it turning pink. _Were her friends laughing at her? _

Leslie made a fist and had look of utmost confidence. "She can!" she shouted fiercely. This was the girl whose life she had modeled her own after. If anyone could land the most popular and coveted male sports hero of their generation, it would be Taylor.

"Are you sure?" Kelly whispered breathlessly. It seemed she almost licked her lips in delight. Kylie looked disappointed, staring at her own feet planted firmly on the floor.

"Of course," the blond beauty continued the boast.

The bell rang. Class was starting. The hallway began to get crowded. They'd have to meet up later.

Later that day, Leslie dragged her friend to the computer lab. On the screen was a website her friend had never seen before. It featured a grainy picture of what appeared to be her prom date and the unfortunate title in giant block letters "Hire a Prom Date."

"He WHAT?" she exclaimed.

The librarian gave the pair a dirty look. She motioned the girls to quiet. The pair nodded, so the older lady would go away.

"We thought you were going to get a date, not hire one," Leslie whispered as loudly as she could into her friend's ear. Her hot breath singed the neck hairs on her friend, who was quite taken off guard.

Taylor's face felt all kinds of sensations that she was not used to. It was not a pleasant feeling. She wasn't sure if she was bright red or pale as a ghost, or maybe a combination of both. A sinking sensation overcame her. It was like an iceberg similar to what took down the Titanic had tsunami-ed overhead.

She just announced to her friends that she was planning on taking Cody Albright to the dance. But apparently, so were over 102 other contestants.

"It was a joke–-" she stammered, unconvincingly.

Leslie's eyes looked sad. "Kelly already told everyone on Facebook, you were going with Cody."

"WHAT?" Taylor demanded.

As if the day couldn't get any worse… From the corner of her eye, she could see Kelly smiling and waving from afar while giggling with a group of other girls. They clearly were laughing at some joke at someone's expense.

Her eyes narrowed. Having friends like this left no room for enemies.

"I'm going to go on a date with Cody like I said. Like this site says, it is for him to hire a friend. Obviously, this site is for charity purposes." Taylor flicked her hair and tried to act as nonchalant as possible.

Staring at her friend with a quizzical look, Leslie hesitated for a belabored moment before slowly nodding.

"Of course… I never doubted," she blurted out at last.

"So, go tell them that!" Taylor commanded.

Her faithful deputy skimpered towards the other girls.

"No running in the library!" the librarian bellowed.

If there was one fault Taylor had that she recognized in herself it was her own stubbornness. She didn't like to admit she was wrong. No matter how dire the situation she was in, she just couldn't do it. Acknowledging a mistake felt like giving up. Her mother had taught her persistence, not just cosmetics. She had to make this work. Her reputation was at stake!


	5. Chapter 5

CH. 5

**Cody wasn't exactly sure what all the ruckus was about**. But when the number of girls that started attending male-only soccer practice doubled and then quadrupled, he started to think there were forces at work other than natural teenage angst and school spirit. There were always a couple of fans that were supporters of the school club, but most only waved banners during home games. Most of the banners were usually for the team - But today they read "Team Cody! Heart heart double heart forever!" All the attention was mildly flattering – at first. Then, it became embarrassing… and then, just plain _suspicious_.

"Dude. That girl is climbing the fence," Jackson the midfielder pointed out in the middle of practice. Sure enough, a girl's leg was dangling over the wire. The coach blew the whistle to stop the game.

"What's going on over there?" the coach barked, sizing Cody up. His eyes were hooded and voice accusatory. It would be vain to fight this. Denials would be useless, not in the face of overwhelming evidence. The fandom looked too staged.

As Cody turned, a blob in pink was scaling the gated area. One leg writhed its way down the wires, as another leg worked its way up. Teenagers were surprisingly nimble. Others would surely follow suit.

"Fix this, Albright. It's a distraction."

The intruder got stuck as her jacket snagged and started flailing her arms wildly. Another girl looked like she was reaching to help her… No, wait. She was actually trying to pull herself up over the metal work herself.

Jackson and the other teammates chortled.

After a minute, the first girl whimpered. Cody went over the fence to help her off, except before he could get to the fence she surprisingly dashed off without her jacket into the forest.

The other girls also dissipated when he tried to approach. One mouthed, "Sorry, my friends can be so embarrassing," before blushing and evaporating in the wind as well.

Practice required changing locations, much to the chagrin of his teammates. When the girls kept figuring out where they were practicing, the guys would stop telling Cody where they were going to be until the last minute. They would put a hood over his head and take him in a darkened van to the 'secure' location. It was a bit excessive, but a seemingly necessary, precaution.

Jackson got the most out of it.

"Come on now, mate. Teach us your tricks. You have these girls following you around like a rockstar." He ran his fingers through his hair and did an imitation of braiding locks. Fluttering his eyelashes, he intonated in as feminine a voice as a post-adolescent boy could, "Cody is such a stud. He rescues me from fences with his big strong soccer muscles. Oooh oooh." Flailing his arms in the air, he would circle the beet-red star.

As for the star himself, he was not amused. The look on his face should have been an indication that he intended to get to the bottom of this. He planned on cornering one of the girls who was following him to find out what was going on. Why had they developed sudden and intense interest in him? But every time he tried to talk to one alone, they would flee like a maniac. It's like they were scared to talk to him.

This didn't matter if it was in person or on the phone. He tried to catch them more than once.

Telephone calls to the house would be swiftly intercepted by his brother, Dylan, the few times Cody was home. Once he made out the high-pitched voice of some girl shrieking about payments to advance tiers. Coupled that with other odd behavior and Cody was starting to think Dylan might be behind some of the shenanigans involving money again and marketing Cody.

_Did he start a fan club? _

"Hey Bro, let's take a selfie."

"What? Why?"

"Come on. It's funny."

"I'm on the toilet. Can this wait-?"

_Camera click._

"DYLAN."

Truthfully, Dylan was always kind of an oddball. When they were younger, the two would get into a lot of mischief together. Even though Dylan was younger, he always seemed to have grand ideas. For some reason, it was fun to enact them together.

Once they built a tree fort solely out of stolen blankets – before they knew about the blurry lines of legality and illegality. They were five at the time. It happened while the girls napped in Miss Simmons' Daycare. It was a beautiful pink, white, and frilly castle. It wouldn't have been so much of a problem if it hadn't been tied together with glue, and all the girls in the class hadn't ended up with stuffy noses. No witnesses came forward so it was hard to prosecute. Somehow none of them were able or willing to point to the perpetrators. Cody long suspected Dylan talked them out of it.

If he couldn't corner the girls, he could certainly corner his brother.

"Dylan. What are these tiers you're selling?"

Pushing his frames higher up on his nose, his brother stalled. "Tiers?"

_Of course he'd play innocent_.

"Yes. I heard you over the phone."

"What exactly did you think you heard?"

Cody sighed. Not much, he thought to himself, as the phone had been continuously ripped out of his hands before he could reach it.

"Hopefully nothing illegal..."

Dylan smiled. His brother didn't have anything concrete to go on. This was why he was known as the clever one.

"Never anything illegal."

Cody had a feeling that the definition of illegal was different for Dylan than it was for the rest of the world.

"I'm making a soccer fan club."

"Are you posting this on the internet?"

"Come 'on. You are nuts! I am making an album for mom's birthday present."

"Why would mom want a photo of me on the toilet!?"

"You don't realize how hard it is to get a good shot." With that, Dylan took a picture of himself making rabbit ears.

Cody's shoulders deflated. _What was he going to do? Avoid his family? _

"_Good job, Jackie_."

Standing up to receive him, she hadn't realized that he had come out of his office until she was right in front of him. His voice startled her but the room was large so it had a tendency to reverb. Jumping up to greet him, she noticed her skirt fold ride up slightly. As discreetly as possible, she smoothed the wrinkled dress down. A small stain was on her cuff that she had also missed too somehow. Trying not to turn pink, she tried to regain composure.

"I just wanted to thank you for all the hours you've put in. I know how hard it must have been for you to pull all these late nights. "

"Of course, it's my pleasure." She sounded like _Chik-Fil-A_ servers. She was so hungry. The thought of fast food sounded amazing.

Jacqueline shook Augustine's hand. He held her hands firmly as if to convey his sincerity through force. A large white envelope was in the other. He placed it squarely on her desk. "For the kids' birthday," he said while winking. Then, walked directly back into his office and closed his door.

"Thank you, Sir." She managed to get out before he left.

Augustine was not a stingy man but this was entirely unexpected.

Peering into the envelope, she looked and saw a cheque for $2,000. Her jaw dropped. This was more than generous. It would go a long way to clearing some of the debt she had accrued. Her eyes welled with tears. There would be some nice chicken tenders for celebration tonight.


End file.
